Guilty By Association
by dancingtothebeatles
Summary: Her sister can't stop calling her a freak, her parents won't recognize what she is and, well, Hogwarts is an entire whole new world to her. Join Serena as she joins forces with the 2nd gen characters, fighting the Death Eaters that remain. Surprise love!
1. An introduction

**Hey! This is my first 2nd Gen fanfic! I'm super excited :) I've always loved all the ideas and freedom for this! What I mean by surprise slash is I'm not going to tell you who she ends up with. It always spoils it and you _know _who the protagonist's love interest is gonna be. I'm being brave too, you know, starting a fic during _exams _of all torturous things. So REVIEW REVIEW _REVIEW. _**For the love of all things good and holy, _REVIEW! _**And this is only the beguinning, giving you background etc. So sorry if I bore you, my darlins'.**

**Read, read, read, read, read on!**

I've lost count of how many times I've been called a freak.

The first time was probably… age seven. And it was my older sister, Adelaide, who said it. I had no idea what that meant so, naturally, I asked my best friend Emily down the street what it meant. She had no idea as well, so we stole away fifteen minutes in front of her parents' computer, Googling it.

freak

–noun

1. any abnormal phenomenon or product or unusual object; anomaly

2. a person or animal on exhibition as an example of a strange deviation from nature; monster.

Well, ain't that the truth.

See, I like to think she's bitter from jealousy, or recurring hormonal issues and I shouldn't care what she thinks. But A) she's family and we used to be such great friends and, B) that—that "monster" part… it got to me. And it stuck with me for a _long _time.

So whenever I had an episode, I made something shoot across the room because I was angry or a glass of water exploded due to random, childish excitement, she's scream "You're a freak," the bones in her neck bulging, face turning red and eyes bugging out. But I never heard "freak." I only heard "monster." And she would stomp upstairs, making angry, frustrated noises and my mom would titter after her saying soothing things like, "Addie! Dear, it's okay."

But no one would soothe me. No one would ask _me _if I was okay. Adelaide wouldn't even get punished. Because as I sat in the family room, shards of glass littering the floor and water dripping floor to ceiling, getting blamed for everything and told it was entirely my fault, all I could think of was the word "monster."

_I'm a monster, _I thought as the word echoed around in my brain. _A monster…_

So you can imagine how ecstatic I was when, at age eleven, I got a letter saying that a representative wizard would be visiting our house on June the 14th to "explain things." I showed it to my parents and they squawked. Seriously. My mom uttered a noise much like a frightened goose and my father just stood there stupidly and gaped at it. Then he ripped it from my grip and threw it across the room, which, you can imagine was a pretty idiotic thing to do as it just glided gracefully to the ground, about two inches away from us. Because it was _paper. _So, he snatched it up and strode to the sink with an angry huff and my mom remained frozen, a look of pure horror on her worn face.

"Dad! What are you doing?" I screeched, following behind him.

He refused to answer me. He simply shoved the paper down the drain and turned the faucet on, with a look of fierce anger on his face. Adelaide then took that perfect opportunity to come sprinting down the stairs, screaming, "What's wrong? Who died?"

"Dad!"

Then he flipped the switch of the disposal and I heard the horrid sound of ripping paper, crunching and grinding. The blades of the disposal shredding away my naïve hope. And that hurt worse than any word or name Adelaide had ever called me. Before anyone could stop me, I shoved my hand down into the sink drain that was tearing apart the letter. A searing pain shop up my arm as the circling blades began to rip at my finger tips. But I was frozen. I couldn't seem to force myself to pull my hand out.

"Serena!" my dad shouted and roughly grabbed my wrist, yanking my hand out of the Disposal of Death. At the sight of my blood dripping into the porcelain sink, my mother automatically unfroze and rushed to me. Cradling my left hand in both of her hands, she instructed my dad to go get "The Kit." I involuntarily flinched. The kit had what seemed to be a lifetime supply of hydrogen peroxide. Talk about _painful. _Adelaide just stood there dumb confusion splayed across her face. I looked away.

That night there was a fight.

I laid on the floor of the bathroom, my ear cupped on the freezing tile. Their voiced were muffled, but from underneath room I shared with Adelaide, I heard them just barely.

"But Don how did they find us?" I heard my mom say possibly the tenth time.

"Who is 'they'?" I muttered angrily to myself.

"Serena! Stop making _so much bloody noise_ or I'll tell them you're eavesdropping! I'm trying to sleep!" Adelaide growled from our room. It was nearly midnight and completely dark but I knew she was lying. She was trying to hear the fight because I could sense she was on the bedroom floor as well. She just didn't want to admit that she was interested in something that involved me.

"Shut up! I can't hear!" I muttered back, drowning out my dad's answer. But I already knew what it was. He's said the same thing to her question each time… "I don't know."

"We can't stay here, can we? Serena _cannot _go to that school! We promised her parents!"

I froze. My body became perfectly still and I waited with bated breath for more information. I heard what I thought was a heavy sigh.

"I know," my father said and I imagined him running a hand through his hair like he does when he's stressed.

So it wasn't some psychotic slip up. My mom hadn't fumbled over her words. My parents… weren't _my parents. _

_I'm adopted? _I thought. _But I look like the rest of the family._

I immediately dismissed the thought. Dozens of people look like me. Dirty-blond hair, sea blue eyes and an average height. Nothing special. Then another thought flashed across my mind…

_What about Adelaide?_

Her being adopted… that just didn't seem right. _She _has _always been better at fitting in with this family, _I thought. _Maybe that's why they always treated her better than me. Maybe that's why everything was always my fault._

"What do we do, Don? We have to protect her! They didn't tell us this would happen!" my mom cried, near hysterics. I shoved my ear into the tile, desperate for more information.

"I don't know. But I do know were not meeting this _person._ Let's get to bed. It's late."

Sensing the end of the discussion, I sat up and slumped against the bathtub, playing with the four cloth Band-Aids on four of my fingertips that represented my rash decision.

_Protecting me? From who? My own kind?_

Yes at a very young age, I determined I was a witch. That's why I accidentally made all those weird things happen. And it was then, in that moment, in the pitch black, my butt bones driving into the cold tile of my bathroom, that I determined I didn't belong here. I would meet that wizard, like it or not. I would be whomever I chose… and my parents couldn't stop me.

I stood, stretched and fumbled to my room. I heard an undignified snore from the ground and my suspicions were confirmed. In the dim light streaming in from the full moon outside our window, I saw Addie sacked out on the hardwood floor of our bedroom. I laughed but didn't wake her. I had something I needed to do.

Producing a pen and a sheet of paper from my bedside table, I wrote:

_Dear Mr./Mrs. Wizard Representative,_

_ My parents seem to be terrified of you so they won't let us have that meeting. I know for a fact that I don't need protecting from witches and wizards. I don't belong in the human world. Please meet me at the Kindrall Park by the picnic tables June 10__th__ at 10:00 pm _(Which was the next night). _I'll try my best to come alone._

_ —Serena Thyme_

I quartered the paper and wrote on one side "Representative Wizard." My handwriting was barely legible because I wrote it in relative darkness.

Then I grabbed a magnet and tiptoed over to my window. I looked for the sensor and found it on the left side of the pane. Praying it worked, I placed the magnet as close to the immobile sensor as possible. Then, I slowly unlocked the window and slid it up an inch, maybe, replacing the one sensor with the magnet. No alarm pierced the air so I knew it had worked. That, or my dad forgot to turn on the alarm.

After I made sure Adelaide was completely dead sacked out, I slipped out of my window and onto the roof. Keeping low to the shingles, I stealthily made my way to an oak tree by the side of our house. Its tall sturdy branches layered close together made a virtual _ladder _down to the ground. I bit the letter and meticulously made my way down to the ground, suppressing the urge to scream "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRGGGGG!" when my foot slipped 30 feet up in the air. I finally, _finally, _made it down to the ground and I shimmied my way, tree to tree, bush to bush, over to the mail box.

The letter I had received said, "If there are any questions, please feel free to mail us." In theory, that's simple enough. Problem was, there wasn't a return address. So praying this ninja mission wasn't futile, I placed the letter in the mail box and left the flag down.

I hoped, I prayed, I wished with all my being that I made the right decision.

Back in my room, I packed a bag of clothes, essentials and things. I set it under a pile of old clothes in our closet and went back into our room. Sitting on the edge of our bed, I stared at Adelaide, asleep on the ground. The beams of moonlight did wonders to her skin and she looked so quiet, so serene. She never looked that happy awake. That got me to thinking.

_What if I wasn't the witch? What if I was the human and she was the gifted one?_

I knew my answer. I knew that _I'd _be calling _her_ a freak, too.

I knew I would be insanely jealous.

Something in me clicked. So out of pity, I knelt beside her and shook her shoulder slightly. She shifted, her eyes fluttering open. Then she saw me and scowled.

"What are you doing?" she spat, sitting up and leaning on her elbows.

"I woke up and saw you were on the ground," I lied. "Thought I'd wake you up so you weren't stiff in the morning."

She glared at me, "How'd I get down here?"

"I dunno," I replied, standing up and making my way to my bed. Adelaide stood as well and continued to glare at me suspiciously. So I said, "Look, I was only trying to help."

I pulled back my sheets and slid in, savoring the cool fluffiness. I glanced over at my sister. She had a hand perched on a cocked hip and was glaring at me fiercely, almost like she was trying to set me on fire. Come to think of it, maybe she _was_ trying to set me on fire. I just rolled my eyes and turned my back on her. I needed my sleep.

The next day, I was running away.

**So... ya like? TELL ME IF YOU DID OR DIDNT I DONT CARE IF YOU HATE IT OR NOT JUST REVIEW! Gosh, I'm desperate. Review! Just do it! ("Nike... *swoosh*") I reply to ALL of my reviewers in my next update so BAM! _Another _reason to review! _PSSSH! _Imagine that! :O Wow... so. REVIEW!**

**Conscience: I can tell you're getting tired of this. I'll stop now-**

**Impulsive self: REVIE-**

****Conscience: *slaps hand over impulsive self's mouth, muffling words* I really am sorry, she can be soooo rude!  
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****Impulsive se****lf: *rips hand off mouth* _REVIEW! AAAAAAGHH!_****

**Conscience: I am so sorry. We'll be off to counseling now... *leads Impulsive self away, against her will***

**Impulsive se****lf:******** _NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! REVIEWWWW!_**

**Just do it.**

***_swoosh!*_  
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	2. Long walks in the dark

**No reviews? Meh :/ Well I promise I'll reply to you if you do review! Pink-swear! Pleeeeeeeeeeeease. Much appreciated! Happy memorial day by the way!**

It's a proven fact that days go by faster when you don't want them to end.

That day, that Tuesday, June 10th went by quicker than any other 24-hours of my life. I spent the morning like I normally do, watching TV for an hour or so before breakfast. Naturally, my entire family acted like nothing out of the ordinary happened yesterday. My mum didn't even ask how my fingers were. I preferred it that way, thought, because I didn't want to admit they hurt awful badly.

After breakfast, I stole over to the mailbox to check if the letter was still there. It was gone and no mail replaced it. I pondered what that meant until Addie shouted from the front porch, "Rena! What are you doing?"

"Nothing!" I shouted back, a bit disgruntled. The nosy brat.

Of all my family, I'd miss her the least.

Adelaide, although she'd never admit it, was never much of a night owl. So by 9:30, it was perfectly safe for me to pack up the remaining items in a Nike duffel bag and rustle that excessively loud nylon as much as I wanted. I slipped my phone in there as well, thought I doubted I'd need it. I also managed to slip in a few of my favorite books, _The Lord of the Rings _amongst them.

Using the same magnet trick, I clambered out of my window the second night in a row and crept more carefully down the oak tree this time. The duffel bag made it much harder to manage, with it shifting left to right and throwing off my balance.

The walk to Kindrall Park was admittedly terrifying. Never in my entire life had I felt so alone and helpless. Many times I thought of the soft, cool bed I had voluntarily left and I nearly turned around. But I just kept walking. I just kept putting one foot in front of the other. Yet still, I noticed dancing shadows in my peripherals and my steps involuntarily would speed up, only for me to freeze in my tracks (my heart beating like a Congo drum inside my chest) at the slightest creaking of a tree. And not soon enough, I reached the park.

Sitting at that picnic table was unnerving but I needn't wait long. Before even ten minutes passed mercilessly slow, a tall and thin woman strode up from the street. The streetlamps lit her from the back, so I only saw a silhouette, a harsh, stern silhouette. I stood.

The woman stiffened. She seemed almost afraid, but when she spoke her voice was solid like a block of polished mahogany.

"What is your name, child?"

I didn't know what to say. I just stood there like an idiot, thinking _This seriously can't be possible. I can't possibly be right._

"I need to know your name, to make sure you're the right person."

I willed my mind to unfreeze and muttered, "Serena Thyme. And you?"

I imagined the woman smiling as she said, "You will know me as Professor McGonagal."

The silhouette faded away and her appearance replaced it as she approached the table and sat at it, very dignified. Professor McGonagal had sharp features: thin eyes, a pointy nose, perfectly shaped bun ornamenting her head and almost no lips. Deep lines crisscrossed her face and I wondered exactly how old she was, and if wizards even aged. She was dressed in a strange mix between a church blouse and pajama pants but out of fear, I didn't comment.

"So Miss Thyme," she said in a voice like you'd hear in a commercial—perfectly clear and curt. "As you may already know, you are a witch."

"_Shhhhhh…! _Professor! Keep it down!" I said, worried someone might hear.

"Oh don't worry, I have cast a sound-proofing spell on this area. No one can hear us," she said with a circling gesture.

"Sweet! So I could stand up and scream 'My knickers are in a twist' and no one would hear me?" I asked excitedly.

"In theory, yes—"

But I was already standing, filling up my lungs with cool night air, ready to belt out—

"MISS THYME! SIT DOWN!" McGonagal cried, standing as well. Her towering figure intimidated me. I sat quickly.

Hey! I get impulsive when I'm excited!

"Now, Miss Thyme, I expect you to stay silent and subdues as I explain several things about Hogwarts to you."

"But, wait," I interjected and she visibly sighed. "What's Hogwarts?"

"Didn't you read the letter?" McGonagal asked.

I held up my bandaged left hand and said, "Dad threw it down the disposal."

Something flashed in her eyes but I couldn't tell what. She just shook her head sadly and continued.

"Have you ever seen a Harry Potter movie?" she asked, which I thought was a pretty idiotic question.

"Sure, I've heard of 'em but I've never seen one," I admitted. My parents didn't approve of "the magic stuff."

McGonagal sighed again. "You don't know anything, do you?"she said, which I thought was pretty mean considering the circumstance.

"_Noooo_," I replied, not even bothering to control my attitude.

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You will be attending there for the next seven years," she said, and it sounded like she had memorized this little spiel many years ago. "We accept students at age 11. Muggleborns like yourself, wizards with non-magic parents, are searched for and informed. Some parents, like your own, reject it. Because of your circumstance, we will get you a room at the Leaky Caldron and I will accompany you around Diagon Alley where you will buy your school items. You may attend Hogwarts through a scholarship if tuition cannot be paid but you must maintain satisfactory grades. Any questions?"

Uh… duh.

"Do I get a wand?" I blurted. "A magic talking frog? Can I learn how to fly on a broom? Will I get vacations? Where is Hogwarts? What's it look like? Are there a lot of students? Do wizards fly on brooms, or is that just a witch thing? One time I read on the internet that if you call a wizard a warlock, it's really insulting. Is that true? When do I leave for school? Where will I get my money from? Do I need to—"

"_MISS THYME! I EXPECT YOU TO CALM YOURSELF THIS. VERY. INSTANCE. OR YOU ARE ON YOUR OWN IN DIAGON ALLEY!" _McGonagal started screaming and I instantly hoped she had no children because she had that whole 'short-tempered' thing ticking off a few thousand patience points.

"Yes ma'am," I said, rather subdued. Questions were still bouncing around my head like that time I let loose a dozen bouncy-balls in the racquetball court. Good times…

"I apologize, Serena, but these days… they've been hard," she said with a terrible sigh.

"I completely understand," I muttered as well and began to play with my bandages idly.

Professor McGonagal looked at me with a fierce, determined look. "They will get better, Serena. I promise."

I gazed at her for a moment, and saw something there. Something motherly. Like I wasn't only my parent's child anymore. I was her's. I was her responsibility and she was going to make certain I was alright.

I leaned across the wooden picnic table gave her a quick hug. She tensed for a moment and I wondered if this was considered inappropriate for students and teachers. But I dismissed the thought. She wasn't just my teacher… she was much more than that.

She was my new mother.

Metaphorically speaking, of course.

I broke the embrace and sat back down. Feeling the need to explain, I said, "It's just nice to have someone I can talk to about this… It's nice not to be called a monster."

I swear, in the pale moonlight, I saw the glistening pearl of a tear slide down her cheek. I must've been imagining it , though, because her voice was solid as a brick when she spoke, "Yes, I find many muggleborns feel that way."

Silence spanned between us, like an unbreakable wall. I couldn't think of a thing to say. Not one.

But I didn't need to, because the sound of an exceedingly loud engine, rumbling up the street consumed the nerve-racking silence. It grew in volume and I swore, I should've been able to see it by then…

The rumbling became louder and louder until it had to be right on top of me! But no car appearing. Then headlights began to sweep around the park, illuminating the woods encircling the play area and glinting of off the jungle-gyms and swing sets.

I turned around to see just where these mysterious headlights were coming from… and my heart nearly stopped.

I was looking at the bottom of a car.

The bottom of a—

"_WHAT?"_

McGonagal laughed behind me and I sensed her standing. My eyes still locked on the _thing,_ I sensed in my peripherals that she was walking nearer to the UFO that looked a whole lot like a hippy-yellow VW bug.

"That our ride," she announced proudly.

No. Bloody. Way.

**Yeah... so REVIEW!**

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	3. who the heck?

**Okay :) So I got some reviews! I'm so excited! :D I've also decided to instead of doing really long chapters weekly, I'll do short chapter daily. So I apoligize for the shortness of this one :P**

**Yep: I know, I know, It's always boring when people are explaining things. I hope this chapter satisfies a bit of your thirst for action (but it probably wont). Love the name b-t-dubs**

**Fangs1998: Hey! Don't ever, ever, ever, ever apologize for long reviews! I ADORE long ones! I changed the description and took out slash. I had no idea that's what it meant! :O So I'll check out Chloe Halestorm and I'll definitely put her in! Any specific place you want her? I'm good about that stuff. Thanks so much for the review!**

**Smizzlemort: Hi, hi! Love the name, even though I don't know what the heck it means, I still think its funny! Thanks sooo much for the review on both chapters! I'll try and read/review your stories too :) On account of the Harry Potter movies, I was just adding in that a muggle named JK Rowling somehow found out about the story of Harry Potter and wrote a book and it got turned into a series of movies. It was just a little piece I added in for good measure. Thanks for asking though! It's hard for me to know if things are unclear because I'm the one writing it and it makes sense in my head but maybe not on paper (or in this case, a computer screen). So thanks sooooooooo much! :D**

Riding in a flying car is terrifying anyway, but for me? Being completely new to this whole "muggle—wizard" stuff, well, I was so scared I was _nauseous._

None too soon our driver, a portly fellow with a cockney accent and too much cologne, announced, "Here." And began the decent.

And I thought the ride was bad.

After I reached the ground, retched a few hundred times (fine… twice), Professor McGonagal paid the driver, and we made our way into the Leaky Caldron. I didn't even ask what city we were in for fear of blowing even _more _chunks.

By now it was nearly midnight but the pub was alive. Warlocks and witches and dwarves and hags and many more unidentifiable humanoids littered the place, all in varying degrees of drunkenness. McGonagal, horrors of horrors, steered me over to the bar and I nearly burst into tears. This whole _place _made me want to throw up, much less the Ride of Terror I just hopped off of.

But when we reached the bar, Professor said, "Room 10 and 12 keys please, and send up some crackers and soda to 12."

The bartender nodded.

I shifted the heavy nylon tote to my other shoulder, nearly knocking an unstable man over with it. He sat precariously on a bar stool and was awfully thin. A strong breeze might blow him over. He reeked of alchohol.

"Watch it, Lassie," he grumbled before glaring at me. He stopped dead in his tracks.

His eyes grew wide, extremely wide, and his thin lips began to smile. I backed away and he slid off his stool. How he stood up, I couldn't fathom because he was hopelessly drunk. I continued to back up and he shuffle forward.

"How is this possible?" he muttered to me gleefully. "How?"

The deadly curiosity inside me won out and I asked, "How what?"

The man shook his head, gray greasy hair fanning out. "You mean you don't know?"

"If I knew, would I be asking?" I countered.

Then the man stopped and put a hand to his back, like a lasting injury flared up suddenly. It passed however and he continued to smile.

"Your _gran-pappy_," he said like pure sugar. "Is the Dark Lord."

I didn't say anything because A) I had no idea who this "Dark Lord" figure is and B) who has such a stupid name as the "Dark Lord" anyway?

_If he's that much of an idiot_, I thought_. He MUST be harmless._

**THanks (- I accidentally capitalized the H and it looks like Tom Hanks so I left it XD) ****sooooooooooooo much for reading! Could I ask you to do one more thing? Review! Well, the ocean's calling! Off to surf! :D**_  
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	4. The ferns they speak to me

**Heyy, my peeps! :D Just got back from pointe and decided to update real quick! Hope you like!**

**Fangs1998: Thanks again :) **_**siiighh… review make me so happy. **_**Anyway! Yeah, so I WAS going to add chloe to this chap but I didn't have time… :( but I'll definitely try in the next one but I dunno. There's a whole ka-bunch of character building I need to for the both of them so. Hmm… I dunno. Thanks though! Love ya :)**

**Smizzlemort: HAAA! Hi-lar-i-ous :D My friends and I do stuff like that all the time. Weird names and stuff. Like my gym teacher has these REALLY big eyes that bug out so we call him "Bush Baby." Seriously google the animal Bush Baby and you'll practically have a legit picture of Coach. Ah… good times… Anyway, yeah I'm not normally into that sort of thing either but I intend to keep it believable, ya know? Not too far off and angsty. Who know though, right? Well… I guess I should, as the author but… I'm kind of the impulsive type…**

_**Whooosh!**_** Blue Steel!**

**(think Zoolander) **

**Anyway… read on. Ya know… if you're not **_**scaaaaaared.**_

The crackers and soda would've helped my churning stomach had I been awake to eat them.

Try as I might, I couldn't seem to keep my heavy eyelids from closing. The comforter's cleanliness was questionable but the bed so plush I couldn't resist sleep. So I fell asleep on accident in the least comfortable pair of jeans I own, but I somehow slept through the entire night peacefully.

I woke to stale crackers and a flat glass of coke.

I downed the Saltines and poured the syrupy brown liquid in a potted plant that I almost swore muttered curse words at me. I apologized to the fern (that's a first) and went to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

A quick shower was necessary if I wanted to look even mildly presentable so I hopped in and prayed the icy water was only temporary. I was wrong.

I stepped out, shivering, and pulled on a pair of jean shorts with a stitched leather belt, a blue tank and a bohemian crop top. Paired with strappy leather sandals, I looked like any other teenage "muggle."

Back in my room, I pulled out my cell phone. It was still early morning and Adelaide would still be asleep. But any minute now, my cell phone would be exploding with calls from my family flipping out because my bed is empty.

I decided to beat them to the punch.

Dialing the home phone so that it would wake the entire house, I pressed send and waited. A robotic voice announced, "I'm sorry. We seem to be experiencing some technical difficulties with your call. Please hang up and try again."

I stared at my phone. It said I had perfect reception, four bars.

"What in the world?" I muttered to myself.

"Muggle electronics don't work in the wizarding world. Too much interference."

I spun around to see who was in my room but no one was there. Not a soul besides my own.

"Love the crop top by the way," the voice said. It was male yet had a feminine drawl to it. And yet I still couldn't place it. "Goes well with the cut offs."

"Thanks," I replied, hoping I could get it to talk more and thereby find the person. "Do you think the shoes are too thick?"

"Hmm..." it thought, somewhere to my left. "More buckle, less strap."

And then I placed it.

It was the mirror.

"My god. Does everything in here talk?" I voiced. "I'm sure the soap didn't quite appreciate being rubbed all over my—"

"Don't be such a pervert," the mirror scolded. "The mirrors are enchanted specifically to help with fashion. Not everything is animate."

"Good to know," I muttered before lifting the heavy gilded mirror off of the wall and laying it on its face on the dresser.

"Hey!" it complained.

"I don't need any fashion advice, thanks," I said as I tossed my phone on the dirty bedspread.

"Your loss!" he called after me as I left the room.

I found Professor McGonagal at a table downstairs. She was eating eggs and bacon as daintily as you possibly can with finger food made from pig butt.

Forever the opportunist, I slid down the curved stair railing on my butt, heels clanking rhythmically against the rails. This earned me a few looks and even a glare or two from fellow patrons, which I all shrugged off.

"Morning Professor!" I greeted cheerily as I reached the table. "What's on the _shed-ule_ for today?"

"Diagon Alley," was her curt response. Then she proceeded to ignore me completely as she read a newspaper entitled _The Daily Prophet.  
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>"Whooooooooa," I said, drawing up to her. "Do those pictures... MOVE?"<p>

"Indeed they do, now would you kindly settle yourself down and eat breakfast."

Grumbling about adults always ruining my fun, I obeyed because well... she had every ability to turn me into a barking tree frog if she saw fit. The breakfast was wonderful, the server's hygiene... not so much. When I finished, McGonagal was STILL reading. It took me nearly five minutes of battling within myself before I decided to speak up.

"Umm... Professor?"

She reluctantly raised her head and narrowed her hawk-like eyes at me. The effect was intimidating to say the least.

"R-Ready to go?" I ventured.

She sighed heavily and laid down the paper. "I suppose so."

The way she said it, so heavily, and how she rose so creakily from the chair opened my eyes to JUST how old she seemed. 60? 70? Certainly not 80?

I cleared my thoughts by physically shaking my head. I followed her lean frame to the back of the pub area and out through a back door. A starkly blank brick wall and rancid smelling rubbish bins met me.

"Why—?"

"Must you ask questions about every bloody thing, Serena?" she said, but it was more of a statement than an actual question.

I remained religiously silent as she produced her wand from the many flaps of scarlet robes she donned. Tapping a series of bricks, she muttered a few gibberish words.

Without even the smallest sound, the bricks began to slide away. Building up on each other and forming a crude sort of doorway. More like a large hole for crawling. But ignoring the magic I just witnessed, I focused on the world through the hole.

A cobblestone street slanted up and out of eyesight. The street was lined with dozens of colorful shops complete with awnings and posters practically screaming at you to buy their product. Wait—some of them _actually _screamed at you. A sign pasted to a cleaning supply store window pictured a middle-aged man who was shouting at passerby, "Buy Mopping Clean! Never mop another day in your life!" He bore a striking resemblance to Billy Mays…

But what struck me the most were the people. They were dressed in all sorts of loud colored robes and strange hats. Small children bounced around setting things on fire or levitating things while their moms huffed and sighed or scolded and yelled. Fathers explained things like a tour guide to nauseous looking first years like myself. I spotted a couple fowl looking people, stuck up and arrogant. But I didn't dwell on them. My eyes travelled to what I only assumed to be an icecream shop, and killer breakfast or not, my mouth began watering.

"Sweeeeeeeet," was all I could say.

No pun intended.

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	5. aaaaaaaaaah

**Sorry! Quick update today (and quick replies to reviews). My cousin's graduating in like… 30 min so I have to be SUPER DUPER QUICK! Agh! I don't do well under pressure :/**

**HannahNoel1217: Thanking for loving my character! Thereby, Iove you! Yipee! I also love new reviewers so you get double love! :D**

**Fangs1998: It's official. I love you. Yayayayayayayay :)**

Stepping into Diagon Alley was stepping into another world.

"Where do we start?" I breathed. I was practically getting whiplash trying to take in every shop, every person, everything.

"Wand," McGonagal said, walking briskly towards a store call Ollivander's.

"Yes!" I exclaimed and skipped after her.

"CUSTOMER!" yelled a bell at the top of the door making me jump nearly two-feet in the air.

Once my eyes adjusted to the darkness of the shop, compared to the stark bright light of the street outside, I looked around.

There were seemingly hundreds of rows of shelves and on them, thousands of, what I assumed to be, boxes containing wands. It seemed impossible that a shop that tiny could hold so much! A dim, dust and cobweb covered chandelier sent shadows criss-crossing in every direction. A small desk, covered with more wand-boxes was in the far corner and behind that, I could see another room—full of more boxes! I strode eagerly over to the desk, my footsteps muffled by the soft maroon carpet.

"Good morning," an airy voice said somewhere. "Please wait a moment while I—Oh, dear!"

Just then, the sound of hundreds of boxes tumbling to the ground killed the peaceful silence. I glanced in the direction of the noise, the right, and burst out in a fit of uncontrollable giggles. McGonagal shot me a death glare but I swore I saw the corners of her mouth twitching, desperate to smile. But even with the intense glare she was shooting at me, I couldn't stop laughing.

Over to the right of the shop, I saw a wiry tuft of hair just peeping out from beneath what had to be thousands of small rectangular boxes, holding wands I assumed. This fuzzy snow white bush was no doubt some poor man's hair and I could hear him muttering some rather fowl curse words in a weak voice that seemed positively ancient.

Between violent giggles, I stumbled over to the pile of fallen boxes as Professor McGonagal stood by, tutting like a useless hen (and in those scarlet robes, she sure looked like one too).

"Are you alright?" I asked, though my voice shook dangerously with laughter.

"Yes, yes. Quite alright. Now would you please help me up?" the voice said.

"Oh! Yeah sure."

There was some shifting of boxes near me and I saw a bony hand with skin like paper peek out from the pile. I took it and the man began to stand, using the grasp for support.

Soon, the small, impossibly old man was standing. He was rail thin and stooped but his eyes were alive and smiling and his movements were quick, like a little fox on a sugar high.

"So here for a wand, eh?" he asked, nearly hopping over to the front counter.

Duh, why else would I be here? I wanted to say, but I thought he's the type of person you wouldn't want to cross.

"But what about _all that_?" I asked, gesturing towards the tornado of boxes he was buried under minutes ago.

"Oh," he said, and waved his wand indiscriminately.

In a flurry of cardboard, the thousands of boxes shot up onto the shelf they belonged on, in perfect order.

"Huh," I said, almost dejectedly. That would've taken hours for me to do at home. Yet, it took Olivander a haphazard wave of a wooden stick and _ZAP__!_ work finished. Incredible. Then I wondered how all wizards aren't fat lards that lay around all day eating boiled peanuts and watching America's Next Top Model for eight hours straight.

"So... wand," Olivander said, snapping my thoughts back to the present.

And I smiled.

Oh, yeah baby.

Bring on the lazy. 

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	6. yumm

**So very sorry, my loves, for taking so long to update! I've been INSANELY busy what with water parks, getting over a recent heartbreak, spending every second of my day with my best friend Shayla, a severe sun burn, bathing suit hunting (yay :D), preparing for a massive ballet performance, laundry duty and having to plan every possible social gathering possible because my friends and family are dysfunctional in that area... Well, I've turned to coffee just to keep my body running. So with all that ('scuse my language :P) crap I have to deal with, I haven't been able to write... At all. But I stayed up to all hours writing this, so I hope you like it. Two extra notes. One: I have an upcoming huge performance for dance that I have to get ready for and the day after that I'm leaving for he beach for a week with my grandmother, aunt and cousins. So help me Lord. My family is WAY anti-Harry Potter (and anti-bikini! Ugh!) so it's gonna be really hard for me to upload but i will TRY! and Two: I might write a very short sort of angsty piece about my recent heartbreak but I'm not sure. It'll be about what Ginny goes thru after Harry leaves her. I just want to vent sort of. Let people know how break ups feel. Sigh. I dunno though. Anyway. So ONE more thing. Check out Hot ****Chelle**** Rae's **_**Tonight, Tonight**_**. It's currently stuck in my head.**

**Thank you so much for all the review! I honestly don't have time to reply and I'm sososososososo sorry ! :'(**

**Enjoy the chap!**

***

So my first bit of magic was pretty sweet.

Nothing special, was McGonagal's comment. But for me, a lowly muggle, making a cash register dance the tango with a book on the history of wands... Well, that's pretty _SPECIAL_ to me.

Up until then, it had felt like a dream. Like I was floating through the tasks of the day and I was living someone else's life. But then, as I felt a powerful rush, almost like a white, rapid current if water, rise up beneath me and that History book started doing the Bicicleta with a cash register, it all came crashing down one me.

I was a witch.

I made a book Dance.

"Ollivander, may I speak with you?" Professor McGonagal said after we'd paid for the wand. With what money, I intended to ask later.

"Sure thing, Minerva," The kind old man said.

"Minerva" gestured for me to leave. I obliged and found a bench to sit on in a patch of warm sunlight. The sunshine quickly turned unpleasant and I felt a layering of sweat build up on my forehead and upper lip. I honestly didn't know what to do so I just sat there like a doofus, trying (and failing) not to eavesdrop on the conversation next to me.

"...taking her so bloody long, dad? It's just dresses!" a boy my age was saying to his dad on another bench not far from mine.

"You know how your mother is when it comes to clothes... apparently it's impossible to find clothes that don't clash with that red hair," the dad was saying.

I snuck a peek at the two of them. The father had straight black hair and light green eyes. His frame was rather small but had large muscles to compensate. The son was rather tall for his age but skinny as a bean pole. He inherited his father's raven hair but sported brown eyes instead. His expression was sour but his anger was laughable by me.

"Ugh... Why can't WE just go get my owl by ourselves?"

_Owl?  
><em>  
>"Because she wants to be there when you get it."<p>

"I'm tired of waiting!" he continued to complain.

"James."

"Fine..."

McGonagal then walked up with a very pleased expression on her face. Until she saw _me_ and her natural expression seemed to be: scowl. I stood up to follow her. But her eyes focused somewhere behind me and she called, "Harry!" and put on the biggest smile.

I turned and the father of the complaining son, "Harry", was standing, waving her over with a friendly grin as well. James, the boy with him, just frowned deeper at the untimely interruption.

"Professor!" Harry said with his arms wide. McGonagal gave him a big hug.

"Long time no see!" Professor said.

_Eaugh._ If I knew anything about reunited old friends, there will be quite a long time spent chatting. And not a lot of time for me to ask about money or wands or why the heck one would be "getting an owl."

The boy, James, was the brave one and said something before the situation got out of hand.

"Dad, don't we have to... ya know. Go?"

"Hmmm..." Harry regarded his son. "What if we chat over ice-cream?"

My mouth literally began to water and I could see from James's eyes that, if he got ice-cream, he'd be willing to have his MOM chat with an old friend.

Which, I daresay, is _MUCH_ worse.

So off to the ice-cream parlor we went. The adults talked about 'The Hogwarts Days' and James and I walked off to the side.

"My name's Serena, you?" I said, covering for the fact that I was majorly eavesdropping earlier.

"James Sirius Potter," he announced, shaking my hand which I thought was a pretty stupid thing to do considering we were eleven, not forty-three.

"So what do you like to do? What sports? Quiddich?" he said, looking at me sideways.

"Muggleborn," I said, because that explained a whole lot more than just "I have no earthly idea what the heck Quiddich is."

"Aah... I must teach you the wizarding ways than. Any questions to start with?"

"My god," I said. "Finally someone who won't yell at me every time I ask a question. Or give me that hawk eye."

He snorted and said, "Yeah my dad says she's the master at the evil eye. Apparently he was a bit of a trouble maker back at Hogwarts. I don't believe him one bit."

I laughed. I guess that's just a dad thing to say. Apparently, back I his good old days, my dad used to play some wicked pranks. I doubt it. Now he's a balding car salesman. What a rebel.

"Yeah..." I said.

By now we were at the ice-cream parlor and I was overcome with he sugary sweet smell of ice-cream.

"Chocolate with extra rainbow sprinkles," I told the freckly teenage boy at the counter.

James snorted and I stuck my tongue out at him, probably giving me plus twelve immaturity points. McGonagal paid again, reminding me that I needed to ask her about that. But she was still engrossed in conversation and James was ordering his.

"The Flaming Sundae please," he said.

"What's a—"

"You'll have to see to believe it," he answered and we strolled to our table and sat down.

The parlor still smelled sickly sweet but I couldn't wait for my ice-cream. Harry and my professor sat at a separate table, farther away, still reliving the glory days.

Then a woman near us yelled, "Professor McGonagal?" At having her name shouted across a busy place, she turned, rather annoyed but her face brightened when she saw who it was.

"Angelina! How nice to see you!"

And thus, "Angelina" joined in on the chat.

I just noticed that she had a daughter with her when she made a great, frustrated noise and began banging her head on the table.

"Not—"

_Bang._

"—another—"

_Bang._

"—chat—"

_Bang._

"—session—"

_Bang.  
><em>  
>She let loose another, "Ugh!" and laid her face on the table, fake crying. Which I thought was pretty stupid considering there were great big bowls of ice-cream on the table that she got her gorgeous dark brown hair all in.<p>

"Looks like you're in the same boat we're in," I said, sliding into a chair next to her.

She left her head rested on the table as she said, "And what is that?"

"The Children With Inconsiderate Guardians Boat," I said, not too quietly.

I felt James slide into the seat next to me. The girl lifted her face to glare at me with these great big sea blue eyes.

"Yeah so what're we suppos_— OHMIGOD ICE-CREAM'S HERE!"_

I thought that little outburst quite unnecessary considering anyone in the _entire room_ could see our ice-cream was indeed here. And if they couldn't see it, they could feel it. It was like a great wave of heat swept through the room for a moment. The source: a white glass bowl shaped like banana with rainbow flames burning on the surface. I could just see a banana, cherry and ice-cream underneath the strange fire. They seemed to be untouched, perfectly fine. And not charred to a crisp.

"Yes... Ice-cream's here! It's here, it's here, it's here. Yay!"

Then I saw that there were only two ice-creams for table six, and I knew that I'd be sharing. Because I liked this girl.

And she liked ice-cream _entirely_ too much. 

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	7. freak attacks

**Quick update! Agh! I am so very sorry but I honestly don't have time to reply to all the reviews right now! I currently hiding in a closet to update so… meh :/ Please please please review. Tnx!**

One thing to note about Chloe Halestorm is that she tends to get violently grumpy post-icecream.

"Ugh... I just need a nap! And she just has keep on yapping and chatting like her life depends—"

"What are they talking about?" I asked, looking for the first time at the talking trio (as James dubbed it in his idiotically cliché way) in roughly an hour.

Their head were inclined towards McGonagal, worried looks on their faces and frown lines marring their foreheads.

"Who cares?" said James, turning to look at them.

"I do. And I'm going to find out just what."

Both James and Chloe had a mini freak attack at not knowing exactly what I was about to do. But I never really do tell people just what I'm going to do anyway.

I stood and walked over to the group. A few words drifted over to me over the mundane rumble of conversation throughout the parlor. I picked out a couple of words that I understood.

"... and she ... parents ... no one ..."

McGonagal saw me and froze, eyes wide, before she cleared her face of all expression. This confirmed two of my thoughts: One) This conversation was not meant to be heard by me and Two) I definitely needed to listen in to it.

"Yes?" said she.

"I was just wondering, because we're so bloody bored, if we could go check out some of the shops and things outside," I said, only half-lying.

Angelina, Chloe's mom, said something I couldn't make out. In reply, I heard Harry mutter, "They wouldn't dare."

What the heck is going on?

This assurance from Harry seemed to be enough for McGonagal because she answered by saying, "Stay together."

I turned to leave, ecstatic, when she added, "Oh! And Miss Thyme... please, God help me, _please_ stay out of trouble."

I gave her a simpering smile and said, "Of couse, McGonagal. I wouldn't dare."

" That's Professor McGonagal to you!" she shouted at me. I turned to leave, with both James and Chloe in my wake, in a state of outraged confusion.

"What was that?" Chloe said, jogging up to me back in the glaring light of Diagon Alley.

I shrugged. "My plan."

James caught up with us and raising his eyebrows, almost saying, "Elaborate or you're dead."

Making a big show of rolling my eyes, I said, "Lie to parents, eavesdrop. It's a simple fib-switch tactic."

James gave Chloe a meaningful look, eyebrows raised, eyes bulging, jaw set... angry. Which I ignored.

"I just wanted to find out what they're talking about," I explained further, not quite ready to annoy the heck out of my new friends.

Chloe set her sights on me, hard, and said through clenched teeth, "Tell. Us. Why."

With a large sigh, I said, "Because I think it might be about me."

"Okaaaaaaay..."

"As in, explain all these weird things going on."

"Weird things?"

"Just..." I didn't know if this was weird or just... I honestly didn't know. But one thing I did know was that I needed to explain some things.

I spotted a darkened alley way between two shops. I pulled the two of them into the cover of shade, amongst much protesting.

"I'm gonna give you the watered down version, okay? Cause I'm missing that important conversation!"

"Fine."

"Okay."

"So I've always been able to do stange things—"

"All wizards do that," James said almost like he was clearing everything up.

"Let me finish!" I nearly shouted. "My parents... they acted like they already knew about wizards. And were terrified of them. They were arguing, I overheard. Apparently, I was given up by someone who was protecting me. That I wasn't supposed to meet wizards."

Now I had their attention. Within that quiet alcove, leaving the loud hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley, in the dim grungy light, I saw amazement in their faces. Wide eyes, open mouths.I saw people who cared about me. I saw people who understood that magic wasn't bad. That it was a part of us. That it was good. That what I felt, they sympathized with. And I most certainly wasn't a monster.

I continued.

"So I ran away and met McGonagal. Last night actually. Then we came to the Leaky Caldron and I was harassed by this drunk old man and now I'm here. And I need to know what they're talking about. I need to know about... me. My history."

Chloe cocked her head to the side in apparent confusion, resembling my golden retriever puppy dog so closely I nearly burst out laughing. James just stood there in a gaping-mouth stupor.

"You ran away... To meet a stranger... In the middle of the night... _LAST_ night?"

"Erm... Yeah."

"You're so hard core!" she shouted, sounding less hard core and more like an excited toddler.

James finally shook his head, clearing it. I wondered just what he was thinking about (and if it had less to do with the conversation and more to do with the questionable chocolate ice-cream stain on my butt).

"Okay... hard to believe but let's go. What's the plan?"

I shrugged. "Just hang out underneath their window and listen."

James smiled, like this was the sort of thing he lived for.

"I like it," he said...

"Classic." 


	8. sugar and spice and everything nice

**Soooo… I am introducing a new character here. I won't tell you who (it's a surprise :D) but I promise you'll like him. I am finally back home! Woot woot! No more hiding in closets and dodging death glares XD I have a good deal of review-replying to do. So, if you honestly don't care then if you could kindly scroll down till you see the **normal writing like this **, read that. It would be much appreciated. Thanks! :D**

**Fangs1998: love love love love love love **_**looooooooove. **_**If I had to rank you in a list of top ten people I don't personally know but I love, it'd be… Buffy Summers…Sirius Black…you…Ashton Kutcher…Sherlock Holmes (the list goes on, you get the point) But you should feel honored, beating out Ashton . . . that's pretty darn hard to do. But congrats. You did it. You're better than that violently attractive explosion of abs. Oh and don't feel bad… Buffy always beats everyone. She's a vampire slayer… **_**psssshhh, **_**c'mon she kicks butt and doesn't even need to take names because she's so **_**bloody awesome. **_**Heh, heh. Bad pun. I get the feeling I need to shut up now. So I will. In a second. **_**In a second! **_**Just two more things to note. The 'bush' (aka Ollivander's hair) appreciates your condolences and will consider placing you in his will (now that was just stupid . . . ) Anyway, the second thing is thanks for your little story! Hahahah! I got a kick outta that one :D lols… I think I'm gonna go read it again . . . . . . LOVE YOU! HAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

**Doctor Brittana Banana Who: You're awesom**_**ER**_**!**

**Smizzlemort: FYI, I still laugh like I should be locked up in an insane asylum whenever I read your username . . . ha. Smizzlemort. . . :D Anyway, I **_**will **_**explain! I'm sorry! I just want her to take pieces of knowledge from different people. But I might have her **_**… errmm…. New friend **_**if you want to call this new character that, expain it to her. Huh. I dunno. Just a little note here, smizzlemort (haha), thank you for all your questions! Most reviwers just say they like it and want more… which don't get me wrong AT ALL, I love it when people like my work. But, I also like it when people want things cleared up. That makes my writing even better which I thank you SSSOOO much for! :D Continuing on, thanks for your saying sorry about the break up. It ended up being alright. I don't think I'm going to write that one shot after all. Just because it takes too much **_**time. **_**Ugh. So anyway. Chloe is just this girl she met while eating ice cream. Her mom is Angelina Forgot-Her-Last-Name who played on the quiddich team with Harry. Her father is unknown but I'm sure I'll make one up in the future. I didn't come up with her myself, actually. A reader, fangs1998, asked me to put her in. So I did. You can do that as well if you want to. :D Thaaaaanks again! LUUURRRRRVE you!**

_**Whew!**_** Read on! :D**

Well, classic tactics usually work well.

The only problem...

I wasn't hearing what I wanted to.

The words had nothing to do with me, or anything mildly interesting for that matter. I mean, who freaking cares what you had for lunch the day Harry Potter won the Triwizard Tournament?

I had missed it.

I had missed the conversation I had worked so hard to listen into!

"Well, dang it," I muttered.

James sighed heavily. "The pet shop?"

I muttered something vulgar and offered a disgruntled, "Sure."

Determined not to let that missed opportunity get me down, I set my shoulders back and smiled, making jabs at strange looking people as we passed.

Soon, we were all laughing our innocent little eleven year old heads off.

Pet shops in the wizarding world aren't like pet shops anywhere else. The strangest, most... weird creatures sat in cages or habitats or hung from the rafters or oozed down the wall.

Pointing to a scary yet cute mix between a koala bear and a pin cushion, I yelled over the infernal racket the animals were making, "I WANT THAT ONE!"

James shook his head. "HOGWARTS... ONLY CAT, TOAD OR OWL."

I cursed silently. Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hogwarts. Always spoiling my fun.

Cat, owl, or toad, eh? Well toads kind of creep me out (with the whole wart thing and all) and although owls sound pretty sick, you can't exactly cuddle with one. So I decided on cat.

Looking around, I found a corner devoted to cats of all kinds. There was every breed imaginable, none that I could name however. Then I saw the kittens.

And I fell in love.

"Ooooh my gawwd!" I screeched, my mouth opening in the letter O and losing all dignity whatsoever.

The little, fragile looking, fluffy balls of sugar and spice and everything nice were all romping around and wrestling with each other in one large cage. Each had a white ribbon around tied in a big floppy bow around their neck. Many would trip over other kittens or get caught under a cute little wrestling match.

I was over by the cage now and I could hear several other families convincing tearful daughters that they COULD NOT get a kitten. I had honestly never wanted anything so badly in my entire life.

I mean, you give me the choice between a boring old owl, a creepy and slimy little toad or the cutest thing you had ever seen in your entire life that probably singlehandedly broke the Guinness book of world records score for cutest kitten of all time?

I was sold.

100% sold.

Eeeeeeeeeeep! So I fitted my hand through the bars on the cage and waited for one to walk over. Two did, actually. And I picked the sweeter one. The other bit the skin between my thumb and pointer finger. The little booger drew blood with his ferocious kitten teeth. The sweet one was cuter anyway. He was black with white socks on his front paws and a strange little marking on his forehead. Also, very out-of-place emerald eyes. So I carefully slid back the cage door and reached in to—

"STOP!" yelled a young male voice. "Please… _do not_ open the cage. We _don't_ need them all running around the place _AGAIN_."

I shut the door and turned around apologetically only to stop dead in my tracks.

I knew him.

Those eyes.

I know those eyes.

They're two shining orbs of bright blue. And I know them. Almost like he used to lean over my cradle as a baby and stare at me, curious in his toddler years. And those eyes were imprinted onto my brain. Those eyes spelled comfort, and sadness and... secrets. I know those eyes. And those eyes held answers. Answers I needed so desperately I almost blurted out, "TELL ME WHO I AM." But considering the situation, I obviously thought not to.

He seemed to start at the sight of me as well. I kind of half-smiled and said, "I'm so sorry, but do I know you from somewhere?"

"I-I don't know... What's your name?" he asked, almost like I was a ticking time bomb or a caged ravenous animal, ready to pounce or explode. He was tall and well built and I could tell that he was probably fifteen of sixteen.

"Serena Thyme," I said and I saw him jerk back in surprise.

"Rena? _Oh_, is it really you?" he cried, his eyes lighting with a desperate fire. He took two long strides over to me and wrapped me in a huge bear hug. I resisted at first, but something felt right.

This touch, this embrace, seemed like it was ripped straight out of my oldest memories. Like he had held me like this ever since I was a child. I felt his shaking hands grip my shoulders like I might disappear any instant. I felt his chest hiccuping with silent sobs. I felt his hot, wet tears pouring down my neck. We were torn apart as children but now we were together again. And I knew.

Somehow.

Some way.

This was my brother.

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	9. Gift certificates and the Dark Lord

**So. I've been sick. For five days. 100 degree fever. It sucks. So basically I've been drowning myself in Coke, Advil, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Amanda Bines. Oh and tissues. Don't forget the tissues that are **_**covering **_**the floor next to my bed. **_**Ewwww. **_**Summer colds are the worst. So! Enough of my sob story! **

**IMPORTANT NOTE: I am unfortunately requiring 5 reviews for the next update. Sorry guys! I just want more. You are already awesome! AMESOME! But I want feedback, mai peeps. ALSO! I have decided that her brother's personality is going to be a lot different than what I originally thought. My plot needed more depth. A grey-er line between good and bad, ya'know. It cant all be obvious! :/  
><strong>

** Oh! And if you haven't already seen it, **_**She's the Man**_** is an amazing movie. Seriously. I forgot all about my pounding headache and unusable nasal passages. It was great.**

**On to reviews. **_**Huzzah!**_

**Fangs1998: I've memorized your username by the way. I just thought it was funny that I didn't even need to look at my list of reviewers. I just wrote your name. I hope you're proud. So! Lols. Still lol-ing at your story! :D So, school troubles, eh? **_**Join the metaphorical club!**_** I'm supposed to being starting a **_**stupid**_** online class but the **_**stupid**_** website didn't tell me the **_**stupid**_** start date was a whole week ago and the **_**stupid**_** school won't answer the **_**stupid**_** phone so I can talk with a **_**stupid**_** guidance councilor so I can go to **_**STUPID**_** SCHOOL NEXT YEAR! AAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHH! But thanks for the review.**

**Great. I need a tissue now. Just great.**

* * *

><p><strong>^ I just discovered this cool little bar thing. . . Is there a T-shirt too? (brownie points if you can tell me what quote that's from!)<br>**

"Uh... Serena? What are you doing?"

I looked up, but didn't see much. Only the navy blue of my brother's uniform. So I regretfully let go and faced a very confused looking James.

"James. This is my brother...Uh..." and then I realized I didn't know my own brother's name.

"Seth. My name is Seth DuPree," he said. James looked at him strangely, like he'd heard his name before but he couldn't quite place where.

Then I realized that I knew next to nothing about this boy. So I stepped back and looked at him, getting a different angle on this 'brother' of mine.

And James and I said at the exact same time, "How?"

"It's a really long story. Do you want to talk over supper or something?" Seth said, addressing me.

"Can James and Chloe come?" I inquired upon him.

"Chloe?"

"What about me?" I heard her peppy little voice ask.

"Sure, whatever," was his gruff answer.

"The Leaky Cauldron? 6:00?"

"Alright. See you then," I said, but I knew something was wrong.

"Rena, can I talk to you? Alone?" Seth asked and pointed to a deserted corner of the shop.

"Sure."

I looked over to James and Chloe, and she mouthed "Be careful." I gave her a sarcastic thumbs-up.

When we were in the relative silence of the alcove, Seth said, "No one can know about your past but us. I know how people react. They don't handle it well. Your friends will treat you differently if they find out. I don't trust them."

"Well, what if I don't trust you? Seth, I've known you for five minutes, you're in no position to tell me who and who not to trust."

"But I just don't think—"

"My friends are coming, like it or not."

"_Not._I definitely don't like it. That Potter kid, he will take it the worst. You guys are practically born to hate each other."

"Well we don't. So there. My friends are coming."

"Serena—"

"Five minutes, Seth, and I know we don't get along. We're different people."

His gaze shifted somewhere behind me and he set his jaw. "Serena. Just listen to me. You don't want your friends to know about it all."

I had never been a very assertive person. My personality was more of a 'let it roll off your back and keep going' type. So it took me around 15 seconds of inner-battling to force myself to give my much-older, much-superior brother orders.

"They're _my_ friends and this is _my_decision."

Seth just scoffed and shook his head, disappointed in me. Per his gestures, I wondered what he was thinking. Along the lines of, "I knew she'd be like this" I guessed.

"Well, in your spare time, why don't you ask your little friends who the Dark Lord is," he said with hatred flashing in his eyes. "Because he's your grandfather. And I'm sure as _*beep*_not helping you now."

Then he turned his back and walked away from me, leaving a very confused, very much lonely 11-year-old girl in his wake.

_In five minutes,_ I told myself_. You find your long lost brother and lose him. All in five minutes, you great douche bag.  
><em>  
>So I shook my head and walked over to James and Chloe, a baffled expression still on my face.<p>

"Huh," I said. "Well_, he's_getting the gift certificate at Christmas."

"What's that supposed to mean?" James asked expectabtly.

"Well, see. For muggles, the relatives you hate, which there's bound to be one (there is in every family), you give them the gift certificate because—"

" _What?_ What happened?" Chloe and James somehow asked at the exact same time.

"I really don't want to talk about it."

"Rena, please," Chloe implored.

So I ignored her and said, "Now about this kitten..."

"Serena," James said, catching my shoulder. "Talk."

"Later?" I pleaded. "Please? I've had enough with life changing discussions for the day."

"Whatever that's supposed to mean," I caught her whisper. I turned my cheek and rushed back over to the kittens, with a squeal and a smile. But even that overwhelming display of cuteness couldn't keep this thought from dominating my weary mind:

_Who is this Dark Lord?_

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